


down and doubt

by tanyart



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 19:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10793220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: McCree and Genji run into Reaper, and it won't be for the last time.





	down and doubt

**Author's Note:**

> A sort of expansion fic to [_sparring_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9694502#sparring), though either can stand alone as short pieces.
> 
> (Very light mcgenji.)

* * *

 

When they discover Reaper’s identity, things become simultaneously simpler and more complicated at the same time.

It’s _simpler_ because it answers a lot of questions McCree has been wondering about Talon and how eerily similar their tactics had aligned with Blackwatch—the weapons, the old routes, and the underworld knowledge they had known to look for.  McCree had always suspected a Blackwatch defector within Talon’s ranks, but there’s a stark difference between a defecting agent and a defecting commander, and it shows in the way Talon handles their business, brutal yet _clean_ , but at least it makes their objectives a little clearer.  

They cannot allow Reaper to continue.  And _that’s_ the complicated bit.  

McCree doesn’t think of the questions he could ask, all the _hows_ and _whys_ to a growing list of terrorist attacks.  He doesn’t plan for a drawn out confrontation.  He doesn’t want one. He wants it over as quick as possible, and he’s not the only one.

Those who had known Gabriel Reyes had been a small list, dwindling over the years.  Reinhardt isn’t shy about sharing what he thinks.  Torbjorn calls him a traitor.  Fareeha is solemn but undeterred.  Genji is quiet.

Ana has known for longer than any of them.  McCree wonders when she had started suspecting, if it happened after her faked death or before she even left Overwatch.  She is troubled, and has no qualms admitting to it, but she is far from distressed.  McCree follows her lead, talks to her when they get a moment together—though those moments are becoming rare; she spends most of her days with the old mysterious soldier now, following other trails left by Talon.

With their help, the Recall team lays out an intricate trap of false leads and tempting targets for Talon to nip at, months of work and missions leading to grim acceptance over time.  The shock wears off as the similarities between Reaper and Gabriel come to light, though McCree thinks it might not be the similarities of the two, but the differences—but no one says a word about it.  

He already knows what to do when they finally corner Reaper amongst the wreckage of what was once a pharmaceutical facility.      

The masked soldier lays on the ground, knocked unconscious by the blast.  Ana’s position is blocked by debris, trapped in with Lena.  Reaper drops lightly to the ground, black mist condensing back into a solid body.  He looks to McCree and Genji, no more than a slight shift from his impassive mask.

“Well. Isn’t this ironic?” Reaper says with a little laugh.

It’s McCree’s cue. Peacekeeper is already in his hand.  Talon’s mission should be scrapped, intercepted by the new Overwatch team, and Reaper has no chance but to run, outnumbered and out-planned.

Genji moves past McCree, nothing more than a blur and the sound of a sword being drawn.  He engages Reaper before the phantom can escape, blade connecting with gun barrels and clawed hands.  

McCree adjusts his aim.  Genji hadn’t hesitated, and neither did he.  A brief pang of irritation hits him, irked by the difference of speed, but he’s fought alongside Genji many times before.  He knows how to keep up, though he’s never felt as if he’s lagged behind before.

Genji shifts his blade, forcing Reaper to raise his arm, leaving his right side unguarded.  It’s deliberate, because Genji knows how to fight with McCree as well, and McCree fires two quick shots into Reaper’s side before Genji twists back around.

McCree circles them, trusting Genji to deflect the bullets Reaper fires towards him and pulling the trigger when Genji presses Reaper into exposed angles.  His hand doesn’t waver, but more than once he only manages to clip the side of Reaper’s head, his own bullets snagging only cloth and smoke.  Genji doesn’t look back, all the faith and confidence in the world that McCree won’t hit him.

The opening eventually comes when Genji draws his second blade, sacrificing one hand to land a blow beneath Reaper’s jaw with the hilt.  The resounding crack doubles as Reaper shot bounces off Genji’s sword, bullet flying a wayward course behind them.

McCree has been waiting, not for the headshot but for the line of Reaper’s throat.  Anyone can survive a shot to the head these days—but not a partial decapitation.  His breath holds, gaze narrowing into a pinpoint.  He sees the arcing trajectory of Genji’s blade, his arm, and then Reaper’s neck, the sliver of graying flesh, the way the skull mask cracks and slides by the slightest inch, lopsided.    

McCree’s finger twitches, trigger pulled with deceptive ease.  He sees Genji pause for a split second, head jerking up before Reaper uses all his strength to shove him to the side. Genji ought to have been able to hold his own, but he jumps back, arm guards dislocated and etched with claw marks.  

McCree’s shot hits Reaper on the shoulder.

Reaper glances at him, chin tipping forward, blood flecking the edge of his mask. The gesture reminds McCree of Reyes, the way he angles his gaze when he’s thinking.

And then Reaper disappears, Genji’s sword passing harmlessly through dissipating black smoke.  

McCree breathes again, though his chest constricts with frustration.  He drops his arm, the line of his pistol hitting against his leg.

Genji is frozen in front of him, body poised as if he’s still waiting to continue the fight.  He slowly straightens, staring ahead for a moment.  His swords dangle at his sides before his grip tightens.

He turns to McCree, green lights flashing.

“Why did you shoot me?” Genji asks. His chest heaves, vents clearing his overheated body.  He takes three steps closer to McCree and then another purposeful one when he predicts McCree drawing back by a fraction.  His voice is both perplexed and incredulous.  He repeats his question when McCree doesn’t answer right away, too taken aback to even reply; “ _Why did you shoot me?_ ”

Genji’s expression is hidden, covered by his helmet, but McCree knows he is livid.  Livid and hurt, and McCree’s even breathing is starting to falter.

“I didn’t shoot you,” he says, because it’s the truth.  None of his bullets have landed on Genji, no matter how risky his shots became during the fight.  He reaches out, heart pounding, and looks over Genji’s broken pieces of armor.  “You weren’t hurt, were you?”

Silly question.  Genji’s injuries are apparent; smoke stains from Reaper’s shotguns firing too close, deep claw marks over synthetic skin, a scattering of new dents from shrapnel, a gaping hole over his left shoulder from a direct shot, but none of it from McCree.

“You don’t miss,” Genji says, stilling as McCree’s hands run over his arms. He grabs McCree’s wrist, insistent, as if McCree isn’t paying attention. “Jesse." 

“I’m not infallible,” McCree says, staring down at him. “Are you blaming me?”

“ _You never miss_ ,”  Genji repeats, voice growing quiet but no less fierce.  “You always know exactly what you’re aiming for, whether the bullets connect is circumstance.”

McCree falls silent, skin crawling.  He remembers the last shot he had taken, every motion a deliberate move.  He can picture the way Genji’s sword had been angled, going for the same exposed part of Reaper’s neck, his back turned to McCree—the way he had jerked back, head turning in a blink of an eye, when he hears McCree fires.

“You forced me to move,” Genji says, his drawn shoulders lowering, grip over McCree’s wrist slipping down to take his hand.  "We could have had him."

His tone isn’t gentle, but it’s not accusing either.  His temper is cooling, though McCree wishes Genji would get angry at him, lash out in some way that’s more deserving.

It would have been easy for Genji to tell.  They know each other too well, from the way they fight together to Genji’s own cybernetics that grants him the agility to see just how McCree had changed the crosshairs of his aim at the last second.

McCree’s communicator chirps between them, followed by the distant sound of Ana’s light footsteps, the buzz of Lena running to them.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Ana asks. “Where did he go?”

Hearing the name is jarring to his ears, but McCree finally holsters his gun.  He starts jogging towards their mysterious ally, waving Ana over.  “He escaped.”

Ana’s mouth draws into a grim line, unhappy, but she knows better than anyone else that stopping Reaper isn’t going to be simple.  She touches McCree’s arm, squeezes once, but doesn’t do anything else.

“Help me carry him,” she says instead, kneeling down.

Genji is on one side of Soldier 76, hefting the unconscious man while McCree takes the other side.  Neither of them mention the way Ana’s hand passes over Soldier 76’s forehead, brushing away dust and dirt.

Lena leads them back to the airship, the silence between them ringing.

 

* * *

 

The flight back to base is a long one, but McCree comes to terms, strapped to a chair with nowhere to run.

He wants Reaper alive.  He wants _Gabriel Reyes_ alive, whether out of misplaced loyalty or wanting to save him or some kind of personal retribution is still something McCree is struggling to figure out.   

Genji sits next to him, but McCree only thumps his head on the backrest.  Ana is further back in the airship, working on whatever injuries Soldier 76 had taken.

“It should be me to take him out,” McCree says, staring ahead at nothing, and he knows he doesn't make sense, but his nerves are getting jumpy, his voice heated.  He’s losing control.  Why Genji should care about the thing that became Gabriel Reyes, he doesn’t know.

“He was my commander too,” Genji says, turning to him.  His visor is partially off, his eyes the only thing visible to McCree.

McCree holds back a scoff, but it’s not enough.  Genji hadn’t known Reyes, not like he did, hadn’t been pulled from Deadlock’s dying jaws, or trained through fire and hell, or given chances McCree would have never been granted in his shitty life in a desert chasm.

“You hated Blackwatch, every second of it,” he says.  _I didn’t._

Genji pauses, his gaze sliding to some spot on the airship’s wall.  “I resented it, yes.”  

And all at once it hits McCree that he feels utterly alone in this.  He’s got Ana and Angela and Genji—people who _knew_ Reyes—but somehow it’s not enough.  They don’t hurt the same as he does, though he knows, deep down, they’ve all been betrayed in some way.

No one, he thinks, has been yanked further out of the gutter than he has by Gabriel Reyes.  And nobody else has been let down harder, with no one to fall back to.

He lets out a breath, not knowing what else to say without giving too much of himself away, and resolves to sleep the rest of the way, though he allows himself the gentle respite of resting his head over Genji’s.

Genji leans into him, though they both glance up when they hear the telltale hiss of a biotic booster from the end of the ship and Ana’s soft murmurs.

Soldier 76 wakes up with a jolt, breath coming out in harsh wheezes, even through his mask.  McCree sees Soldier's hand go to his face, clawed into a hold over his visor, but Ana moves to the side, blocking McCree’s line of sight as she injects another syringe into Soldier 76’s arm.

“ _Gabe_ ,” Soldier says, strangled voice carrying despite the airship’s engines.  “ _Where is-?_ ”

Ana bends her head over him, speaking too low to hear, but Soldier 76 calms down, hand falling from his mask.

“ _It should be me_ ,” he tells Ana, voice still slurred, hurt, a touch too loud.

McCree looks away.


End file.
